


Bygone Days

by Sagartolen



Series: Distance in Time [2]
Category: Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Arthur's a mechanic, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Lewis is a good friend, Mild Language, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Canon, pre-ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 02:58:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18908137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagartolen/pseuds/Sagartolen
Summary: The calm before the storm.  'Distance in Time' companion ficlets.Chapter 1: Arthur gets into trouble. Lewis gets him out again.





	Bygone Days

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally going to be a flashback but didn't really fit so it's here now.

Arthur immediately notices the motorbike when it pulls off the highway, engine revving, ties squeaking across the pavement. It slides right into the only vacant spot outside Pepper’s Paradiso, taking up all the space, leaving no room for additional vehicles.

Though the muscle-bike is impressive, heavy, built for long distance travel, it’s not that which draws his interest. As the bike’s leather-clad rider kills the excessively loud engine, Arthur’s attention is pulled to an incongruent rattle, signalling a loose bolt or screw. Not immediately noticeable, drowned out by other motor noises, Arthur strains to place the potential fault. He squints up at the engine, scanning the bike’s frame. He can’t tell from where he’s sitting, but the impressive array of exhaust piping seams off.

The staring earns him a harsh glare from the bike’s owner who stalks past. Arthur averts his gaze down to the pavement, unwilling to provoke someone who’s either in a bad mood or generally spoiling for a fight. A familiar bell chime, the diner doors open, and the man disappears inside. Casually, Arthur stands, pauses for a beat, then meanders away from the entry in the direction of the bike.

He is in the middle of waiting for Lewis to finish his shift. It’s taking longer than usual, the dinner seeing an abnormal increase in customers for this time of day. Of course, Lewis has to hang back and help his parents deal with the sudden rush. It has left Arthur with little to do but loiter in the carpark, watching patrons come and go. Despite his friend’s insistence that he take a table inside, Arthur is not a fan of crowds or noise and doesn’t want to occupy any space or attention when they’re so busy. Thus, outside, sitting on the curb, fiddling with his phone, is where Arthur has been.

The bike is the first exciting thing to happen in the last thirty minutes. Nonchalantly, Arthur glances over his shoulder, but there is no sign of Lewis or the bike’s owner. He really should leave this alone, that leather-guy looks like a person he doesn’t want to piss off. Arthur circles the bike, ignoring his better judgment. He’ll make this quick. After he confirms his suspicions, he’ll resume his patient sitting.

The bike is doubly impressive up close.

One of the band-clamps, connecting the exhaust piping to the collector, is loose. Arthur eyes it critically, crouching down to get a proper view.  Shoddy maintenance work, he concludes quickly. Someone has obviously taken the whole bike apart, replaced several pieces, then rushed putting it back together. The error, not something immediately noticeable, will inevitably screw things up in the long term. It’s a shame because the bike is  _really_  nice. He stands and takes a step back. Okay. Suspicion confirmed. Time to bug out and mind his own business.

Quickly, Arthur powerwalks over to his van on the opposite side of the parking lot, pulls out his toolbox, snatches the correct wrench and powerwalks back, crouching back down. If he quickly tightens that bolt there and moves this a bit here, it’ll shore-up the pipe’s integrity and prevent a major failure.

“Oi. What the fuck are you doing.”

Arthur doesn’t even manage to tighten the first bolt. A hand grabs the back of his vest and yanks him away hard. He goes sprawling across the concrete, getting his arms under him, so he narrowly avoids hitting his head. On his back, Arthur squints up at a bulky, leather wearing, very angry, bike owner.

Rattled from hitting the ground, Arthur blurts, “Nothing!” An angry scowl is his unfavourable response.

“I mean,” He rushes to clarify, holding up his incriminating wrench, “I’m obviously doing something, but it’s nothing bad. I swear. “

“Sure kid,” Knuckles are cracked, “and I’m a priest spreading the good word.”

Damnit, why couldn’t he have just left well enough alone?  Quick, talk fast, explain the situation.

“The exhaust pipe is super screwy. Whoever put it together is an idiot, they obviously don’t know what they are doing…ah…”

“What did you say…” The man steps over him, casting a threatening shadow. Okay. That was the wrong thing to say. The guy is probably friends with the mechanic or is the mechanic. Arthur is very aware of how his downed position places him in a precarious spot. Regret. He regrets everything!

Before the taller man can take a proper swing a foreign hand flashes out from behind, catching his arm.

“Is there a problem?” Lewis steps around into view, still dressed in his chef uniform, shooting Arthur a puzzled glance. Arthur shrugs helplessly, having no excuse for the current situation.  

“Fuck off, this isn’t none of your business,” The leather-guy continues to scowl at Arthur, yanking at the grip.

“I work for this diner. And that’s a friend of mine,” Lewis steps forward, so he’s hovering near Arthur’s head. Slowly, he releases the other’s arm. The leather-wearing bike owner shifts in response, giving Lewis a critical once over. Unlike Arthur, who is wiry, athletic and generally unthreatening, Lewis is tall, heavy-set, and very intimidating when he wants to be. Usually, that’s enough to deter a fight, and deterring is important because Lewis hates physical confrontation.

There are a tense few moments while leather-guy considers Lewis like he’s weighing up the pros and cons of starting a brawl right then and there. Luckily, the guy’s not a complete nut-job and, after some inaudible grumbling, steps away.

“Little punk insulted my baby,” Is groused as the guy stomps back towards his bike, dismissing both him and Lewis.  

“Ah, your exhaust pipe is loose. I was trying to fix it,” Arthur calls after him, sitting upright now he’s not in danger of being punched. Lewis, who is in the process of helping Arthur up, gives him a withering look.

The leather guy turns slowly, growling, “Like I believe that shit.”

“Arthur’s a mechanic,” Lewis explains diplomatically, pushing Arthur behind him and out of sight, “A good mechanic. If he says there is something wrong with your engine, then there probably is.”

A disbelieving grunt, but the other man doesn’t come back towards them, “Whatever kid.”

The leather-guy mounts his bike, calling, “A word of advice. Don’t start fights when ya can’t follow through.” The engine roars and both rider and bike tear out the car park and onto the highway. A second later and they are gone. Lewis breaths out a sigh and turns to give Arthur an exasperated frown. He is tense, not entirely happy.

“What was that about?”

Arthur grimaces, feeling a bit guilty for dragging Lewis into a potentially dangerous situation, “Yeah. Okay. So that wasn’t my brightest moment, but there really was something wrong with the exhaust pipe.”

“And what. You just decided to fix it without informing the possessive owner?” Lewis gestures at the wrench he’s still holding. Now the adrenaline is fading, Lewis is relaxing, sounding a mix of amused and exasperated.

“It was a nice bike,” Arthur defends, “and I thought he would be in the diner for longer.”

Lewis shakes his head, “Nope. Only here for the restrooms. Saw him leave one as I was finishing.”

“I sort of figured,” Arthur mutters, examining the grazes running up both his elbows. Blood is pooling just under displaced skin. Probably a result of hitting the pavement. Lewis watches, wincing in sympathy.

“Do you want…”

“I’ve got gauze in the van,” Arthur anticipates the question, “Ugh. Some people have zero chill. What do you think? A gang member or something.”

“Not sure. He’s staying in the Tempo Motor Inn. So, we at least we know where to avoid for a while.”

Arthur pauses in his inspection, glancing at Lewis, a question on his lips.

“The perks of grocery shopping multiple times a week. Mrs Burton mentioned seeing an ‘unpleasant man in leather around the motel.’ How many men in leather can there be?”  Lewis elaborates, walking over to pick up his bag, which lying discarded near the diner’s entrance.

“Lots. If it’s a gang.” Arthur jokes, adding, “And Vivi says there are no benefits to gossiping.”

Lewis laughs, finally losing the last vestiges of tension, his shoulders relaxing. He slings his bag over a shoulder. Likewise, Arthur also lets himself relax, thankful his dumb idea hadn’t caused irreparable harm. They both start walking towards his van. Vivi’s still needs to be picked up. Arthur has already texted her, but he doesn’t want her to wait any longer than necessary. While Arthur pulls out his first aid kit, Lewis pulls off his work clothes, messing around with his hair till it sits right.

“At least it’ll make an interesting story,” Arthur remarks, wincing as he applies disinfectant to the injury. Lewis takes the driver’s seat, Arthur being preoccupied. Not long after, they hit the town proper, quickly navigating the sparse streets. Vivi is easily spotted, a blue blob, sitting on the steps outside her workplace, eyes glued to a thick book. Lewis sounds the horn to get her attention, causing her to glance up, frown quickly turning to a grin.


End file.
